


You're my Treasures

by UnknownRegion



Category: Naruto
Genre: Brother/Brother Incest, Child Soldiers, Gender change upon reincarnation, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Murder, Psychological Horror, Reincarnation, Twincest, Warring States Period (Naruto), Yandere, dark themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-16 12:49:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18521866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnknownRegion/pseuds/UnknownRegion
Summary: What happens when a serial killer gets reincarnated into Narutoverse as the twin of her favorite Hokage?Poor Hashirama frets over Tobirama's chastity wheneverheis nearby. And by he, Hashirama means Tobirama's younger twin brother.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My plot-bunnies had really, really, really wanted me to write a reincarnation fic with the MC being a serial killer in her last life... who is also an otaku. My plot-bunnies told me it'll be fun, so here it is; the fanfiction no one asks for ( • ̀ω•́ )✧~! **I'll be channeling Dexter Morgan through her.**
> 
> I got inspired when I saw an art of Tobirama with what looked to be an evil twin of his but with black hair, green eyes, and green facial tats! I found it when I was browsing through pinterest in my quest to procrastinate, so I don't know who the original artist is and I can't credit them (T_T). If anyone knows them, or if the artist themself sees this and wants me to remove the drawing, please tell me!

I don't own this drawing! Credits to the artist. I'm just inspired by it~!

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

One moment she was cackling at the surrounding police officers who were pointing their guns at her -  _enjoying the pure horror and anger in their eyes as they surveyed her beautiful scene of carnage; the inch thick blood pooling on the floor, the severed body parts belonging to two of her latest victims, the bloodied chainsaw in her equally bloodied, glove-clad hands_  - and the next she was lethargically fighting for her heavy eyelids to open.

Has she been brought to a hospital? A prison cell? An asylum? That would be disappointing.

Her vision was too blurry for her to confirm her location. But she didn't fret. She was actually quite content to lay on her back and get comfortable - she  _always_  was after a fresh kill, savoring it as if it was finely aged wine until the time came to deliberate on her next hunt.

Groggily, she mentally salutes  _her_ personal task force for  _finally_  catching her after ten long years of pursuit. Took them long enough, she inwardly giggles. She had been getting quite frustrated at their lack of progress despite her leaving many,  _many_  trails in her wake of serial killings.

To her, dropping clues and leading the detectives by their noses had all been for the sake of her entertainment. Her murders didn't start that way, of course, but after she saw the news anchor reporting the shocking discovery of one of her burial grounds - _the one that was at the beach near the police HQ_   _where she worked_  - she decided that it wouldn't hurt to play with the newly established task force at that point in time.

The detectives on her case named her the  _Deep Sea Butcher._ Because forty or so of her victims they had found had all been cut into pieces, stuffed inside trash bags, and left to rot at the deep ocean floors.

As a reward for their lack of creativity, she left the detectives a trail of body parts that led them to  _another_  one of her dumping grounds, as she disliked how every time she overhears her colleagues refer to her nighttime persona as the Deep Sea Butcher, it reminded her far too much of deep-sea _cucumbers -_ which was not something they should be calling a lady. That was just plain  _rude_.

After the many,  _many_  creative ways she left her then latest victims out in the open to show how  _displeased_  she was with her alias, they took the hint. It also took them several months to realize that she had been sending them a message, but they did give her the courtesy of changing her murder name after all that trouble.

Thankfully, they simplified her serial killer alias to The Butcher. She giggles in remembrance. It was funny, seeing her colleagues all run about like headless chickens as she slurps her cup noodle behind her work station. She loves her occupation as a Blood Spatter Analyst.

After ten long years of playing cat and mouse, however, she soon grew  _bored_ with their incompetence. She was simply too good at getting away with murder. Her family, all of them being infamous serial killers by night and cops by day, had trained her well.

Don't take it wrong, it  _had been_  gratifying to see that she outsmarts her entire task force made up by feds and homicide detectives by a whole margin, but it became monotonous soon enough. Hence, she decided that it was high time she experiences something new and exciting for her thirty-fifth birthday.

Her parents and siblings had been the first people to fall to her blade, all of them died with proud smiles on their faces ( _they, too, had grown bored and wanted to experience something new_ ). So she was sure that they would agree with her decision of following in their footsteps - she wanted to go out with a  _bang_.

And then came the beautiful butchery she had orchestrated after tying up all her loose ends. She had made sure that as soon as the police came to their senses and raid her apartment, they would see all of the  _trophies_  she had collected and the evidence that her entire family had been notorious, psychopathic serial killers.

And my oh my, what a delightful surprise it would be!

She only wishes that she could have seen the faces of her colleagues there and then. Though seeing that she was well and alive, perhaps she would get the chance of witnessing the aftermath soon enough. Despite all her faults, she was patient when it came to her amusement.

Now, you might be wondering how exactly did they know to come to the northern shipping port? Well, she, obviously, wrote down the address on a post-it note and put it on her Lieutenant's desk. In order to pull attention to the message, she even made sure to kindly leave a detached head next to the post-it.

If they had not been able to find her after she had bluntly clued them of her desire for new adventures, she would have called her dear colleagues a lost cause.

Thankfully, they received her message well enough. Regrettably,  _for them_  that was, they came too late. She had already butchered their Homicide Division's Captain and Lieutenant.

The expressions they wore when they saw her was  _beautiful_. And the questions, oh dear, the  _questions_  they asked. It was far too amusing that she couldn't withhold the unhinged cackles that came from her throat, whilst between breaths, informing them that she has printed out all her kills and burial grounds and stacked them on her desk, tied with a pretty ribbon on top  _just. For. Them_.

Perhaps her mocking words had affected them more deeply than she realizes, because now that she was more awake, she registers that she wasn't in a hospital ward or a prison cell. She was lying inside a wooden crib on her back, and that her world seemed  _larger_  than before.

It didn't take long for her to figure out that she was inside the body of an infant - she was a certified  _genius_ , after all.

Deadpanning at the ceiling, she idly wonders if she should be irritated that she couldn't remember dying or that she should be happy to know that reincarnation was real. Within a couple of seconds, she decided on the latter. After all, there was no use crying over spilt milk.

"For him to look so serious, I wonder what's playing on his mind. What do you think, Hashi-kun?"

A melodious, tender female voice drifts into her ears.

She recognizes those words to be the language of Japan. And fortunately enough, she had previously been a die-hard otaku who had diligently studied Japanese due to her impatient nature. It had been simply  _torturous_  to wait for the subs to be aired, hence she has mastered the language in order to watch anime in their raws.

With much struggle, she turns her head to look through the bars of her crib. Whilst she was at it, she guestimates that her infantile body was probably less than four months old, as it was too weak to do anything but turn the head and flail about.

A beautiful, pale lady with soft features, who appears to be in her early twenties, soon enters her vision. She was a brunette with straight, long hair, and dark, droopy, forest green eyes. They made her look kind and  _Yamato Nadeshiko_ -ish.

If this woman was to be her new mother, she hopes that this body of hers would inherit those soft features. It would be an easier experience for her to hunt for prey if she has the impression of a delicate and fragile flower, who would be easily dismissed as 'harmless'.

"Maybe he pooped?"

Another voice, this time younger and more high-pitched, was heard coming from her other side. She turns to face the child. Immediately, her eyes were zeroed onto his bowl-styled, pitch black hair. It was aesthetically  _displeasing_ enough for her to scrunch up her nose and physically turn away.

She admits that she has a mild case of narcissism ( _as most sociopaths do_ ). She couldn't imagine how horrible the boy must feel to have parents that would force him into such a hideous hairstyle.

She swears that if they were to ever insist that she, too, have her hair cut to look like someone has placed a bowl on her head, they would become her 'first' victim. An orphan's life wouldn't be all that bad thanks to the memories of her former life. With the mentality of a thirty-five-year-old to help her, she could live independently without an issue.

"Let's check, shall we? Could you hold Tobi-kun for okaa-san, please, Hashi-kun?"

_How many kids does this woman even have?_

A babe swaddled in baby blues was handed to the kid with the hideous bowl-cut before she feels fingers wrapping themselves around her ankles. She raises an annoyed brow when her lower body was completely lifted and her nappy checked.

Embarrassment was not something she feels often, but if there was a right time to feel it,  _this_  would be it. Indignant soon sprouted, though it rapidly changes into acceptance and apathy not a moment later. Her emotions have always been dull and fleeting. It was only thanks to her having just killed someone that she was able to feel anything at all.

The psychology books and articles she read explains that psychopaths were characterized by their antisocial behavior, their impaired empathy, their apathy, their lack of remorse and guilt, and their egotistical traits. It causes them to function differently from other people, and it also differs from case to case.

For her case, initially, she couldn't understand what it meant to  _feel_.

In her early years, she failed to comprehend why she should smile like the other kids. Or why she should cry when attending a funeral. She thought that her base setting for apathy was like any other child since her family said that for  _their family_ ,  _it was_   _normal_... That was until she experiences what it truly meant to  _feel_  for the first time ever.

It was right after her first impulsive kill - a neighbor's dog that barked _too much_.

After braining the mutt, her heart had pumped a mile a minute, her gut felt a pleasant fluttering, and she _couldn't. stop. smiling_ as she basks in the afterglow of a successful kill. Her parents had found out immediately and helped her hide the body, praising her all the while and promising to teach her their techniques.

The feeling of euphoria lasted for an entire week, but it gradually dimmed and she went back to feeling  _nothing_. But she wanted to feel that pleasant sensation  _again_. So she started killing stray animals with the guidance of her family, ones that were small enough for her child-self to handle.

Along the way, her blade pointed itself at her family at their bequeath, and then her prey all fell into the category of  _criminal scum_  that no one bothers much about.

And then everything just  _clicked_ ; as if a missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle has finally been found. There was a way for her to  _feel_ normal despite her inherent craziness. There was a way for her to blend into the crowd without appearing abnormal. She simply needs to kill another person every time she notices that her emotions were diminishing.

_Emotions_  became a drug to her; an addiction. And murder became her  _medication_.

During her high school days, she was introduced to the wonders of anime by her classmates. It, somehow, helps soothe the withdrawal. But it doesn't curb them for long.

She wanted to really  _feel,_ she wanted her heart to  _flutter_  with  _warmth_  and her head to  _spin pleasantly_  - and to do so, she has to  _keep on_   _killing_ , as the euphoria could only last  _so long_. That was why she became a Blood Splatter Analyst. It was easier to  _hunt_  with database access and dropped homicide cases at her disposal.

"Taka-kun is dry," The  _Yamato Nadeshiko_ says as she, unfortunately, began to swaddle her, "Perhaps he wants to be carried. Do you want okaa-san to hold you, my son?"

She furrows her brow.

It was either her Japanese language was failing her, or she could have sworn that the pronoun the woman used was the wrong one. Additionally, _musuko_  meant  _son_  in Japanese. The woman should be referring to her as  _musume_ ,  _daughter_.

"Okaa-san, can we go walk outside? Please? I promise I won't drop Tobirama," The boy asks, an eager tint in his tone.

When the name  _Tobirama_  left the boy's lips, it distracted her from her earlier musings. She couldn't help but let out an unladylike snort.

It seems that her new parents were avid Naruto fans. She mentally gives them a double thumbs up -  _the Nidaime had been her all-time favorite Hokage_  - and hopes that she has also been named after one of the Senju characters. She wouldn't mind being called  _Tsunade._ In fact, she would be  _honored_ , as the Godaime Hokage had been her favorite female character in the entire series.

"Of course, sweetie."

She was soon transferred into the woman's arms and carried outside, the warmth of the sun's rays feeling pleasant on her baby skin. She was awed to personally live at an authentic Japanese home, with their tatami mats, wooden floorings, shoji doors, and a large garden with a koi pond to go with it.

That awe soon turned into blatant amusement when she sees the Senju symbol sewed on two flags situated at the ends of a short bridge above the pond, whipping about due to the wind. Her parents were truly Narutards.

Blinking her eyes languidly, she keeps an ear open whilst she enjoys the tranquility of the garden. The boy's cheery stories about how good he was becoming at throwing shuriken made her roll her eyes. What a delusional family ( _it seems she would get along with them fine_ ). Maybe they would even be happy to discover her nighttime  _hobby_. She would make a great killing machi- _ahem_ , ninja.

She giggles at the slip-up. What a beautiful dream. Indeed, it would be most satisfying if she could kill without legal repercussions.

However, her daydream came a stop at the appearance of a man with a headband. He wore red, plated chest and shoulder armor over black garments, and has a sword strapped on his back. But those were secondary. What she was surprised over was how eerily alike the man was to Senju Butsuma. Fewer wrinkles and young-looking ( _in his_   _early twenties_ ), but it was definitely the character Senju Butsuma.

It was either the man was a  _really_  good cosplayer, or she has been reincarnated into Narutoverse. In order to confirm her theory, she turns ever so slightly so that her eyes would land on the boy she had previously ignored due to his unpleasant hair cut.

She guestimates him to be about three to four years old, with chubby cheeks and tanned skin. He was wearing a light blue tank top tucked into a hideous pair of grey hakama pants and straw sandals. He, too, looked eerily like a miniature version of Senju Hashirama.

Her eyes flicker to the swaddled baby next.

The baby has a tuft of white hair, phoenix shaped, ruby red eyes that were surrounded by thick, white lashes, and pale skin. His chubby features looked similar to a miniature version of Senju Tobirama ( _she couldn't quite take her eyes off of him. He was a beautiful baby_ ).

Suddenly, her eyes shone brightly.

If her intuition was right and this was not a cosplay family, her  _hobby_  would be  _much appreciated_  in this current life of hers. She just hopes that her new family could endure her incoming apathy and her lack of empathy ( _as her 'drug' would only last at most a month from today onwards_ ) until she manages to  _kick start_ her system again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The initial pairing was supposed to be TobiTaka twincest. But my plot-bunnies told me that inserting a slice of meat between the twin sandwich would make it more tantalizing (¯﹃¯*). So the pairing has been changed to Tobi/Mada/Taka threesome. What'd ya guys think?

**Warning:**  Disturbing thoughts. Animal cruelty.  _Love_  is a hard emotion to express when you're a psychopath. Yandere tendencies. Dark humor.

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

It has been a week since she remembers her previous life. It didn't take even a second for her to gleefully accept that she has been reincarnated into Narutoverse.

Of course, she fully intends on becoming a shinobi as that was a career that would allow her to kill other people and not be judged for it - what better occupation could a serial killer ask for? Additionally, she was the twin brother of one  _Senju Tobirama_ , the  _coolest_  ever Hokage in her eyes.

She got along well with both of her siblings, always cuddling against Tobirama's side or cooing at Hashirama whenever the boy became mischevious enough to play with her cheeks. She seldom sees her father during daylight, but her mother was around twenty-four seven to take care of their baby needs.

However, she knows that her cheery persona would not last for long. She could already feel that the  _euphoria_ she has gained from killing her former Captain and Lieutenant were diminishing at a steady rate. She guestimates that by the end of this month, she would no doubt have returned to the default settings of a killer doll.

The constant apathy ( _boredom_ ) wasn't something she was looking forward to.

It didn't take a genius to see that all her cheer was gradually fading away. Her mother was the first to notice that she smiles less as time progress. She was beginning to become  _that_  child again, the one from her previous life.

A child that was different from the rest of the populace. A child that found everything to be boring. A child that was too smart for her age. A child that could not understand that clouting someone was not ok. A child that lacked social skills. A child that imitates the expressions and social niceties of others but does not understand it.

When another week has passed, she began to see her mother - who ironically enough was named Senju  _Nadeshiko -_ more and more like a stranger than a family member. She remembers her previous set of parents well enough to compare the two.

They didn't look at her like how Senju Nadeshiko looks at her. Senju Nadeshiko looks at her like how her former teachers look at her. She doesn't understand the look very well, but she knows it  _wasn't_  endearment. She loves her previous mother more. And her previous mother loved her too.

Senju Butsuma, one the other hand, loves her  _real self_ \- not the cheery baby, but the apathetic one. He would often time put her on his lap as he whets his weapons at the end of the day. Or he would murmur under his breath about all the creative ways a shinobi could kill someone with a milk bottle whilst he walks around the garden carrying her.

Senju Butsuma looks at her like how her previous father looked at her. So she loves Butsuma like she loves her previous family. One day, she hopes that Butsuma would allow her to kill him to show how much she loves him.

Hashirama acts no different despite her lack of smiles. He continues to play with her cheeks, not deterred by her silence or the way she would stare  _hungrily_  at him. When she wasn't with Butsuma, she was with Hashirama, the talkative boy always gossiping about one thing or another.

His chattering occasionally causes her to fantasize about stitching his lips together or removing his voice box with him still aware, but he was also entertaining so she wouldn't act upon such daydreams. He reminds her much of her previous big sister, always mischevious yet has the most kills in their dysfunctional family.

Her twin brother, Tobirama, hasn't really formed a personality for her to compare him to anyone in her previous life just yet.

He was still just a baby. Someone who cries when they're hungry, cries when they need changing, or cry just because they felt like it. Nevertheless, she loves him  _above all others_. One of the reason was that Tobirama was a beautiful baby, one she could never take her eyes off of. His albinism only compliments his features, making him appear ethereal.

But all in all, she knows that she loves herself the most, so it doesn't take a genius to figure out that her narcissism extends to Tobirama, who was her identical twin. That was the main reason why she loves Tobirama despite his lack of individuality. Not because Senju Tobirama was her favorite future Hokage, but because he looks  _just. like. her_.

She shakes her head to rid herself of her musings.

Currently, she was in the living room with her brothers, Nadeshiko was at the kitchen preparing lunch, and Butsuma was training at their backyard.

She grunts when she finally accomplished sitting up on her own, her body swaying slightly as she struggles to find her balance. Whilst Tobirama blinks and continues to try to copy her movements, Hashirama squeals in delight at her infantile body's progress, clapping his hands and telling her how proud he was of her.

She only stares at him with her head tilted to one side, already returned to her  _'default settings'_ as yesterday was the last day of the month. She feels empty.

There was no sense of accomplishment. No happiness at the praise Hashirama had given her. No disappointment that she couldn't feel anymore. No care that she has discarded her former self entirely and began calling himself Senju Takarama in his mind.

And Takarama was only  _bored_. Bored of the way Hashirama would smile at him dorkily. Bored whenever Nadeshiko would try to get him to call her mother. Bored of hugging his twin. Bored that he was even bored.

 _'Ah'_ , he duly notes, ' _I really want to kill someone to get rid of this boredom'_.

* * *

Takarama and Tobirama were now a year old. One has a head of spiky black hair and a pair of emerald green eyes, and the other has a head of spiky white hair and a pair of ruby red eyes. Their coloring was different, like night and day, but their features were mirror images of the other.

His twin was a bright baby boy, already able to form short, coherent sentences. He was even able to run after a gleeful Hashirama, his movements more fluid than the average one-year-old. If the albino had been born on Earth, he would be praised to the high heavens as a child genius.

Takarama, on the other hand, didn't bother to speak.

He knows he could, but he didn't care to. Though, at least, he makes an effort to physically keep up with Tobirama's accelerated growth. Narutoverse defies the Earth's common sense, where ninja children were advanced both physically and mentally.

Takarama was currently on Butsuma's lap, the man murmuring chakra theories under his breath whilst he idly observes his eldest son teach Tobirama some warm-up stretches to improve flexibility.

Takarama squeezes his pudgy fists as he blankly stares up at the birds perched innocently on the tree branches, warbling their song without a care in the world. He imagines squeezing their fragile necks, choking them and listening to them shriek in instinctual fear, the flapping of their wings erratic in their need to escape.

They continue their song.

Takarama continues making hand seals to improve his finger's dexterity.

* * *

They were two years old when Butsuma assigns an older, retired shinobi to train them on his behalf. The man was too busy caring for Nadeshiko, who was pregnant with their fourth son, to divide any more of his attention amongst three sons. Hashirama's training was far too advanced for the twins to join him at this point in time.

Unlike Tobirama, Takarama was  _not_  a natural sensor, as he has come to learn. He was actually the  _opposite_  of a sensor, much to his twin's amusement.

Whereas Tobirama was able to walk around with his eyes closed and not bump into anything, Takarama has trouble sensing any chakra outside his body. His twin explains that his eyes weren't at all reliable, to begin with, as they were sensitive to the light. Hence, to make up for his poor vision, he prefers ' _seeing_ ' with his chakra.

Although, unlike Takarama, Tobirama struggles to perform chakra manipulation exercises at first. Takarama has the unfair advantage of maturity at his side, however, and chakra manipulate came easy to him when chakra didn't exist in his previous life

By the end of their first lesson, Takarama manages to take five steps up a tree before he feels exhaustion creep behind him. Tobirama was able to walk two steps before he falters. Butsuma was pleased that he has another set of child soldiers that were like Hashirama -  _prodigious_ shinobi in the making.

Takrama didn't care. He only wants to be able to climb a tree quick enough to snag a bird. It was too bad there were no animals or livestock within the compound walls, only avians.

* * *

Senju Kawarama was born when the twins and Hashirama were three and six respectively. Tobirama was instantly enamored by the baby, cuddling it in his arms and refusing Hashirama's request to hold it.

Takarama calls it an ugly piglet, what with its pruney skin, scrunched up features, and pinkish complexion. Tobirama didn't seem to hear his barbed insult, his ruby red eyes focused solely on that  _thing_.

It makes something inside of Takarama tighten uncomfortably, a hazy red appearing in his vision. There was also the intense desire to drown his youngest brother at the koi pond, which wasn't exactly something new, as he fantasizes about that often enough.

He tentatively places a pudgy hand on his chest, right above his heart, not at all understanding the sensation. He dislikes it.

It was then Hashirama chides him for making fun of their baby brother, which pulled him out of his brooding. And before he could snark at his big brother, Hashirama tells Takarama that he looks  _exactly_  like Kawarama when he has just been born.

Thanks to the recent weekly killings of avians, Takarama was able to  _feel_  more than a wooden puppet, hence he was disgruntled by that unnecessary comment and viciously jabs his pointy elbow into his big brother's ribs. Hashirama coughs out an ' _oomph_ ', holding his side as if in pain, but he was grinning too broadly to act otherwise, clearly pleased to see that Takarama was reacting and emoting more and more as of late.

Huffing at Hashirama's dreadful and unpleasant teasing ( _Takarama and Tobirama were beautiful babies, thank you very much_ ), he glares at the hideous bundle carried by Tobirama and slides behind his twin to all but wrap his skinny arms around his twin's waist.

 _'You can't have him. Tobirama is mine. Mine to protect. Mine to own._ _Mine to kill._ Mine  _ **mine** mine.'_

* * *

Takarama contemplates sneaking out of the compound as he continues to squeeze his pet raven's fragile neck. Its beak has been wrapped by a string to impede it from making any noisy screeches, and its wing feathers clipped in prevention for any flights.

Seeing that it was asphyxiating, he relaxes his fingers but kept them in place.

The raven futilely beats its useless wings and blunted talons against his wrist. Takarama ignores it, not in the mood to wrestle. He turns his head to look out his bedroom window. It was a beautiful day, truly tempting him to take a step outside the compound walls and search for bigger prey to kill.

He was envious that Hashirama was already doing courier runs.

Since the twins were only four this year, it was still too early for them to be able to leave the compound. Normally, he would be glued to Tobirama's side on lackluster days like these, but his twin was currently with Butsuma, doing who knows what. He has a feeling that Butsuma has been giving Tobirama private classes, though.

This left him to find new ways to entertain himself, which was how his beloved raven came into his life. The avian has been his pet for a year now, an investment of sorts. No one knew of its existence, not even his twin, as he often keeps it inside a small, wooden trunk whenever he went out to train.

His emerald green eyes stray to the crow that was as long as his torso and thick as one of his thighs. Perhaps he should rectify that?

"You're nameless, though," He murmurs, head tilted to the side, "I can't introduce you to Tobira, anija, and piggy if you don't have a name."

Bored with its pathetic wrestling, he releases it and watches as the avian crawls towards its bed. He giggles at the hilarious sight. How adorable. If it wanted to go back to its birdhouse, it only needed to tell him. He would gladly carry it to the wooden trunk.

"What of the name Karasu?" He asks whilst poking the raven with a toe. It dodges his next poke, which he assumes was its way of telling him that it dislikes the name.

"Tsubasa?" Another dodge.

"Tobu?" Yet another dodge.

Takarama was getting annoyed, so he threw the defiant bird to the other side of the room, only placated when it shuddered as it hit the wall.

"Satsujinki, then?  _Sacchan_  for short." At its lack of movements, Takarama figures that it was happy with its name. Good. He was beginning to run out of ideas. "I'll introduce you to my other treasures once anija comes back home." 

With a smile, he removes the string from its beak, cradles his beloved pet to his chest, and starts preening its dark feathers.

As a person who doesn't fully understand the emotions ( _he was still learning_ ), he imitates to the best of his abilities. He knows that birds would preen others they like, so he preens Sacchan to show his affection for it. And as a plus, preening helps with keeping his treasure in mint condition.

It was like killing two birds with one stone.

Not  _literally_ , of course.

Takarama would only kill Sacchan if the bird ever tries to run from him.

After he was done preening its feathers, he places Sacchan on his futon and reaches for a kunai, which was slightly blunt but whatever ( _he made a mental note to whet his tools later_ ). It was high time for Sacchan to earn its keep. Despite the affection he feels for his pet, it shouldn't freeload off of him any longer. Everyone needs to contribute to  _something_.

After all, there was a limit to his kindness.

* * *

Takarama traverses the forest with the grace of a stalking panther, traveling via tree branches like any good forest-dwelling shinobi. His beloved pet was with him, perched on his right shoulder with a home-made black hood strapped to its head, blending nicely with its feathers.

After having removed the raven's eyes and trained his pet to ' _see_ ' with its chakra using Tobirama as a reference book, it became his personal radar.

His brothers were surprised at the initial introduction, but after explaining to them that Sacchan was a ninkarasu and his assistant to help him overcome his chakra sensing handicap, they accepted his pet without a fuss. Now, the raven was always seen together with him.

Currently, Takarama was doing his first ever mission as a shinobi. A supply run.

His errand ( _because let's face it, this was basically a glorified shopping chore_ ) was still within the Senju territory; a civilian settlement under their clan's protection. Hence, Butsuma wasn't at all worried about sending his five-year-old son out on his lonesome due to their lack of manpower.

This provides an opportunity for him to  _finally_  fulfill his cravings for a murder whilst he accomplishes his mission. Takarama had been getting bored of killing birds. Sure, he was able to get his weekly dose of  _emotions_  thanks to them, but it was a minuscule amount when compared to butchering humans.

He misses the blood, the viscera, the brain matter, the screams, and the thrill of it all.

" ** _N_** o _o_ **b**.  **C** _1_ 2.  _T_ **4**."

Sacchan suddenly reports in a robotic tenor. Those English words were codes that he has established and drilled into his feathery pet's brain.  _Noob_ was the code for ' _genin level chakra_   _signature_ ',  _C12_  was the code for ' _check your twelve_ _o'clock_ ', and  _T4_  was the code for ' _a total of four people_ '.

Takarama immediately makes a split second decision to abandon his current route and turn left. After a few more minutes, he clears his throat, a signal for Sacchan to scan again to see if they were being followed.

" _N_ **e** _v **e** r_mo _r **e**._"

It took a few extra moments for him to truly believe that he has not been followed despite Sacchan's account that there were no more signatures nearby. One could never be too careful, after all. A whole decade of cat and mouse with the donut munchers and feds have made him a  _really_  cautious mass murderer.

Releasing the tension on his shoulders, he smiles sharply.

It was good to know that his pet's training has not gone to waste. Having a live chakra radar was handy for someone who lacked even the basics of chakra sensing capabilities. Sacchan has definitely earned its keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dayyyuuummm! I'm so glad to see such positive feedback from ya'll. Thank you!
> 
> Now... Why did I ever decide that childhood snapshots would be a fun piece to write (≖͞_≖̥)? Baby years. Dreadful. Thought I knew better than to put myself in this position. Geez, I never learn (－‸ლ)! Should've just time skipped into teenage years.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is brought to you by procrastination and writer's block （´∀`）ｂ


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